He had showed her the bridge. A bridge that connected the hot sands of the desert, with the cool grasses of the plains. Sitting her down, he told her to feel the grass beneath her feet .. to remember the smell of the hot soil beneath the Central Fire ... to know the sound of the breeze and remember the scent of the bosk. All things that were natural and known to her, things that were as much a part of her as living and breathing.
Closing her eyes she takes in a long breath of the cool plains air, then opens her eyes to look at him. She knows she must make the rest of the journey on her own. He has brought her as far as he can, and now it is up to her to find her way back to her body, that is under the watchful care of Tarra. Her hand lifts to touch his face again, her gaze lingering on him, then she turns and walks to where she knows she needs to be.
Her eyes flutter open, and she recognizes the roof of her own wagon. Home. Where she is supposed to be, home. Slowly her head turns to see Tarra. In that moment, she knew the woman had rarely left her side, while she is gone. It would be affirmed to her later, but by instinct, she knows.
Her first thoughts were to Also and Fonce. Her voice is hoarse from lack of use, but she manages to whisper and ask for them. To her relief, Fonce steps through the flaps of her wagon, carrying a sleeping Also. He lowers the boy to the furs beside her, and she reaches to touch his arm, watching his face. Still he does not look into her eyes.
Yes, she is back, and evidently her body has been well cared for while her mind was wandering in the darkness. The confusion of emotions is still there. It will take time for all of them to be sorted out, placed back into proper perspective. And there is the dance of new ones, or maybe old ones that had lay hidden. Only time will tell if they will fall in to place.
Tarra did not stay long, stating that she needed to go tell Kam and Mezoo that she was awake. Part of her hated to see her leave, but she did understand, but there was that part of her that was so confused, that she longed to talk to Fonce, alone.
But, that was not to be.
Visitors. First Seveya, then Yamka. Conversations. Yes she was back, yes she was fine. As she lay there watching them all, there was such a cloud of confusion it made her unsure of many things.
There were the things that she knew. Ba'atar was dead. She could finally admit that and had released him to move forward, and in that, had released herself to come back. But not alone. She would not have been able to do it alone. There was a strong force there, to help shield her, to set her back on the path to the living.
These things tumbled around in her head as she tried to keep up with the talk. What does she do now? Well, for right now, she does what they expect of her. Somewhere, tucked away, she knows that there is a way she is supposed to act, and she tries. She smiles, talks with them, and even maybe makes a joke or two about the move, the work to be done, and that she needs to be up and doing it. That is what they expect. They expect Cana.
Then there were the things she did not know. How much of what had happened were a dream, how much had been true. Were words and emotions exchanged, veiled by that place, or were they true? Could she finally put a voice to things she had felt for so long, or were they to be buried back into that secret place? It was all too confusing, and made her tired, and made her head ache from it. Was it all true, or was it an illusion. This is what she longed to know, but in almost the blinking of an eye, the world tilted on it's axis again, and she was stymied.
Fonce pulled Seveya into his arms, and told her that he had asked for her bride price, but had been refused. And there went the world again, tilting further on its' axis, leaning to something that was as surreal as the place she had just been rescued from, but this was in the here and now.
His words caught her off-guard, confused her even more. She was not even able to process them entirely, and tried to make some sense out of what she spoke to him, to them both. If given time to think on this, maybe she would have said something different. Something so terribly wise, that it would have been memorable.
But she realized, that was not what he wanted. He wanted her approval. Approval? Doing the Cana thing, she smiled and voice her approval and her blessings for them both. It seemed to appease him, so it was good. She then took the cowards path, and claimed being tired, needing to sleep.
It was an avenue of escape. One that allowed them to leave, thinking she was fine, and it allowed her time alone, to try and tilt the world back into perspective. Laying down, the tears flowed. Tears of loss. Loss of love of Ba'atar, loss of something she saw a brief glance of but would never know fully.
Loss of part of herself, whoever that was now.
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